


Whether Or Not That You Like

by annie_reckson



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bets & Wagers, EVERYONE - Freeform, Everyone Is Alive, M/M, Oh yes, One of my favorite tropes, Stiles is a Little Shit, alpha!Derek, obviously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:30:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3616605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annie_reckson/pseuds/annie_reckson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles purses his lips and narrows his eyes, “Fine buddy, that’s the way you wanna play? How about we make a wager?”</p><p>“Stiles, you’re a freshman at Berkeley living off of ramen and energy drinks, I hardly think you can-”</p><p>“Not that kind of wager, asshole,” Stiles watches Derek’s eyebrows raise and takes a step back, “Let’s say, if I’m right, then you have to agree with everything I say for the next month. Because I am honestly sick of my ideas getting shot down constantly.”</p><p>“And if I’m right?”</p><p>Stiles puts his hands up, “I’ll stay out of the whole supernatural thing for an entire month. No plotting, no scheming, no getting my hands dirty. I’ll be a perfect little Berkeley student and stay out of your way. Deal?”</p><p>Derek crosses his arms and looks down at the table, like he’s contemplating it, then shrugs and nods, “Deal.”</p><p>Stiles breaks out in a grin, “I can’t wait to be right.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wager

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been kicking around in my head for the past few months (after I myself lost a similar wager because Green Bay can't hold onto a fucking lead in a playoff game). Stiles being a little shit is pretty much my favorite thing in the world and I'm reeeaalllly looking forward to writing a lot of that.
> 
> Also! Title comes from the song "Friends Make Garbage (Good Friends Take It Out)" by Low Roar because springtime means Ethereal-Dreampop-Time for me and because these are seriously the lyrics:
> 
> _We were just kids  
>  With visions and hearts that coincide   
> Climb aboard our ship   
> We're going whether or not that you like   
> Whether or not that you like_

“Are you _fucking_ serious right now?”

Stiles fist rattles the table but does nothing to the stern expression on Derek’s face. By now, the rest of the pack has retreated to the coffee table to study the detailed map of the forest that Allison and Kira had been working on. Which just left Stiles and Derek at opposite ends of what they called the “dining room table” even though Derek’s loft didn’t have anything resembling a dining room, and Stiles couldn’t remember any food ever actually being on it. Instead, it was currently littered with police reports from the past month that Stiles had managed to sneak out of the precinct while Derek, once again, provided a distraction (turns out it's much easier to distract the other police officers when Derek actually is one).

Derek exhales out a long-suffering sigh and braces his palms on the table, “Stiles, nothing about this suggests anything so out of the ordinary-”

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles mouth falls open and, in lieu of repeating his earlier statement, he gestures to the documents in front of them, “Three weeks ago, police found two hunters - of the typical kind, not the,” He waves his hand around, “ _Argent-y kind_ \- passed out in the woods. They have no memory of what caused them to pass out, only that beforehand they’d seen a massive grizzly and decided to track it.”

“So what? Two middle-aged men got too drunk on cheap liquor while stupidly trying to track a grizzly.”

“Two and a half weeks ago, a lady called 911 because she heard the voice of her dead mother outside of her home-”

“Could have been a hallucination. I’m not jumping to the conclusion that it’s a-”

Stiles tosses a handful of reports from his side of the table to the center, “Three families in the past two weeks have made calls to the police about someone banging on their windows and doors at odd hours of the morning.”

Derek shrugs his shoulders, “Sounds like annoying teenagers.”

“I swear to God, dude,” Stiles scrunches his face and clenches his fists, “The one victim we have has a _swollen tongue_ -”

“And clawmarks.”

“ _It’s a Skin-walker_ , Derek, okay? You know, you trust me to read through the bestiary, you expect me to do research for you, but you never trust any of the results I get.”

Derek rubs a hand over his face, “I understand you want this to be something new and interesting, Stiles. But from what I’ve seen of the corpse, I believe we’re dealing with another rogue Omega. It makes a lot more sense than a Navajo legend has never been spotted in this part of the country.”

“Wow, if only some, let’s say, _supernatural beacon_ , had been activated. That would probably draw in some interesting characters, wouldn’t it?.”

“Stiles. We’re wasting time arguing about this.”

“We’re wasting time because you never listen to any of my suggestions.”

“Your suggestions are ridiculous.”

Stiles purses his lips and narrows his eyes, “Fine buddy, that’s the way you wanna play? How about we make a wager?”

“Stiles, you’re a freshman at Berkeley living off of ramen and energy drinks, I hardly think you can-”

“Not that kind of wager, asshole,” Stiles watches Derek’s eyebrows raise and takes a step back, “Let’s say, if I’m right, then you have to agree with everything I say for the next month. Because I am honestly sick of my ideas getting shot down constantly.”

“And if I’m right?”

Stiles puts his hands up, “I’ll stay out of the whole supernatural thing for an entire month. No plotting, no scheming, no getting my hands dirty. I’ll be a perfect little Berkeley student and stay out of your way. Deal?”

Derek crosses his arms and looks down at the table, like he’s contemplating it, then shrugs and nods, “Deal.”

Stiles breaks out in a grin, “I can’t wait to be right.”

 

***

 

Sure, the rest of the pups are a little worse for wear, and Stiles is _absolutely pressing_ his luck with his ostentatious celebrating as they make their way back to the clearing in the forest where they left their vehicles, but he really can’t help it. Lydia is rolling her eyes at him but he doesn’t really care because he was 100%, completely right and there’s no amount of lupine scowling that will ruin his mood. Besides, Scott will have his back no matter how annoyed the rest of the pack gets, so Stiles isn’t too worried.

“Oh I’m sorry, could someone tell me what exactly it was that we just encountered?”

Boyd huffs, “A skin-walker.”

“Damn right it was!” Stiles reaches out for a fist-bump that doesn’t get returned, “And what exactly happened when your furry butts tried to attack the skin-walker?”

Everyone groans, but Scott indulges, “We...couldn’t move.”

Lydia pipes up, “All of you were rendered immobile from making eye contact with the skin-walker.”

“ _Because no one listened to Stiles about it being a skin-walker_ ,” Stiles helpfully finishes, “And what happened next, my canine friends?”

Malia looks like she’s about to take a swipe at him, but Erica holds her back and snaps out, “You oh-so-valiantly came to our rescue,” She gives him a smile that’s dripping with sarcasm.

“And attacked the big bear from behind with good Ol’ Mjolnir here,” He waves his bat around, “While carefully avoiding eye contact, _because it was a skin-walker_.”

Derek stops dead in his tracks and turns his head slightly back, “Stiles. We get it.”

“Do you, Derek?” Stiles narrows his eyes and steps toe-to-toe with the Alpha, “Do you really get it? Because you know what this means right?”

Derek bares his teeth slightly, “You can’t actually be serious.”

“Oh I am very serious,” Stiles licks his bottom lip, “And don’t call me-Oh.”

Scott grabs his arm, “C’mon dude, now might not be the time. Maybe when we’re all a little less...?” He gestures at his torn clothes and generally mud-covered body.

“Nah dude. I’d like some confirmation from Remus Gloomin over here that he understands what the next month of his life is going to be like. Because that witch wearing a bear’s hide is still out there, okay? And not only might we actually defeat this thing if Alphamus Prime actually listens to me, but,” Stiles thunks his knuckles against Derek’s chest, “I am going to _love_ the new attitude.”

He can faintly hear muffled laughter coming from other members of the pack, which only makes the ridiculous grin he’s giving Derek even bigger. From the annoyance in Derek’s eyes, Stiles is sure he’s regretting the degree of certainty he’d had earlier, but that’s nothing compared to how much he’s going to regret it in a few days.

It’s definitely time to make up for the past three years of Derek ignoring his ideas, shutting down his plans, and treating him like Stiles doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Oh yeah, Stiles is going to exploit the shit out of this.


	2. Laying The Groundwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh. My. GOD. Wow, seriously, response to this fic has already been AMAZING. You guys are awesome, I love you all very very very much, all of your comments give me life, etc etc etc etc etc
> 
> Now I just hope I can live up to your expectations!

His first chance comes the next night, when they have a pack meeting. Really, he wanted to start abusing his newfound powers as early as possible, but rightfully decided to wait until everyone had showered, refreshed, and taken a day to lick their wounds from him _saving their asses_ once again. He already knows he has to start small with this thing; he’s definitely learned by now when and how far he can test Derek’s patience. So he uses his his first demand to make sure Derek plays nice.

It starts when Stiles gets to Derek’s loft - the last to arrive, as per usual - and notices Malia and Isaac arguing over whether they’re going to order pizza or Thai for the group. From where he’s leaning in the doorway, he can see Isaac holding the phone far above Malia’s head and telling her in slightly poetic tones that there is no way they’re having some greasy, meaty monstrosity again when they could be having delicious spicy basil beef. Kira and Scott are chatting on the couch with Boyd, all three trying their best to stay out of it, but Erica has her arms crossed and looks like she’s about to bite into the tendons on Isaac’s arm to get the phone away from him. Allison, for her part, is doing her best to try and get them to compromise, but even Lydia keeps a stern expression, firmly expressing that she has zero desire to consume any more food loaded with neon-colored cheese.

Stiles decides to invoke his newly-won executive privileges, “Why not tacos?”

Everyone snaps their head in his direction, even Derek, who’d been perched half-hidden on the spiral staircase going through the bestiary during the entire thing. Stiles saunters in a little over-confidently and plucks the phone out of Isaac’s lowered hand before setting it down on the table. He smirks and shoots a wink in Derek’s direction before addressing the rest of the group. Derek, of course, just rolls his eyes at him, but that was already to be expected and Stiles continues unperturbed.

“There’s a place that just opened down the street. I’ve heard good things about it from a few of my dad’s deputies, supposedly they do ‘authentic’ street tacos. I’m surprised Derek hasn’t been there yet, Parrish has been talking non-stop about this apparently magical pulled pork taco all week. I could pull up their menu and let everyone look at it, fuck it, I’ll even go pick them up for everybody. Sound good?”

Malia furrows her eyebrows, “I’m not really in the mood for tacos.”

“That is unfortunate for you,” Stiles makes a face, “Because I think they sound like a great idea. Don’t you agree, Derek?”

Derek looks away and shakes his head before huffing out, in a rote tone, “Yes Stiles, tacos are, in fact, a great idea.”

Scott chokes out a laugh before he can muffle it with his fist and is rewarded with a heavy scowl from Derek. To further press his luck, Stiles leans forward and holds his fist out, smirking again when Scott knocks their knuckles together. Beside Scott, Kira is barely suppressing a giggle while Boyd has his lips pursed like he’s about to burst at any moment.

“Fantastic!” Stiles claps his hands together, “I’ll get their menu loaded up so all of you can take a look.”

After a few keystrokes to bring up the taco stand’s webpage, Stiles leaves the browser window with the menu open and sets the laptop on the table for everyone to look at. He retreats over to the staircase, where Derek has closed the bestiary and is finally making his way down the steps. Stiles shoots him a grin that’s barely returned and steps in line beside him.

“I’m guessing we’re on the same page now?”

Derek gives a slight, curt nod, “I’m working my way through the entry. There’s a lot of information about what these things are-”

“But zero info on how to kill them. I was frustrated by that, too.”

“It’d be great if we had some source besides the Argents. They didn’t exactly interact with Native populations that much.”

“Yeah, being over in Europe will do that,” Stiles shrugs, “I can do a little research on my own, see if I can find some better sources. It’s worked before.”

“No,” Derek shakes his head, “You have class on Monday, you should be focusing on school during the week, not this.”

“I can do both, this doesn’t interfe-”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek gently grabs his upper arm and turns him so they’re facing, “I appreciate what you do, what you’ve done, but Isaac and I can handle it from here.”

“I can’t just sit around,” He sets his jaw, “And do nothing and not know if you guys are safe or acting irrationally or getting yourselves killed while I’m hours away talking about Petrarch.”

“I wish I could promise that we won’t go after this thing until the rest of you are back next weekend, but," Derek purses his lips, "I can promise that we won’t plan anything unless everyone’s involved, alright?”

It was kind of inspiring how well the pack had stayed together even after over half of them got accepted to universities that took them outside of Beacon Hills. Scott was the closest still to Beacon Hills; he’d bucked down in his senior year and somehow got accepted into the Veterinary Medicine program at UC Davis. Lydia accepted a spot at Stanford, turning down some other offers that Stiles knew were much better, and was working her way towards a research fellowship. Allison, thankfully, was at Berkeley with Stiles. It’s not like they saw each other that often since they were in different disciplines, but they had a lot of fun making the drive together. And Stiles could admit that he enjoyed Allison’s company a lot more when he didn’t have to hear about her constantly from Scott.

Erica and Boyd made the joint decision to attend UCLA together after Boyd got an academic full-ride - seriously, who knew the big guy was so smart under that stoic demeanor? For her part, Erica held a solid spot as a midfielder on the women’s soccer team. So far, the other Pack members had only been able to make it to a few games (except for Derek, who was inexplicably at every single one of them, but Stiles believed that was probably because he didn’t exactly have any other obligations), but maybe after this was taken care of, they’d be able to head down there more. Maybe, for once, they could go a few weeks or even a few months without worrying about the safety of their little town.

“You promise? You won’t concoct some ridiculous scheme?”

Derek raises an eyebrow, “I won’t concoct some ridiculous scheme.”

A thought occurs to Stiles, “And you’re not just saying that because you have to?”

“No, I’m not,” Derek rolls his eyes, “From what I saw last night, there’s no way Isaac and I could attack that thing on our own. So we’re not going to do anything, scout’s honor, without some serious planning beforehand. With everyone.”

Stiles pats his back and heads over to the couch to plop down next to Scott. He wants to tell Derek that he's  proud of him, he wants to let him know how good it is to see how different he is now from the practically suicidal, damaged wolf they’d first met who seemed to have a battle plan that stated, ‘Fight first, get ass kicked, then maybe ask a question or two.’ Derek has practically morphed into a Zenwolf ever since their Mexico adventure.

It seems like encouraging words always get stuck in his throat though, not necessarily when it came to other people, just mainly Derek. Consequently, over the last few years he’s kind of gotten used to hiding things from Derek. Emotion-like things.

Scott nudges him with his knee, “Hey bro, want me to ride with you?”

“Oh uh, sure man-”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it,” Allison pipes up from where she’s leaning against the table.

“Really? Are you sure?” Scott asks.

“Yeah. I’ve looked over the menu three or four times and can’t figure out what I want. It’ll make it easier if I go with him.”

“Sounds good,” Stiles lets the side of his mouth tug up into a grin, “We should probably head out soon, right?”

Allison nods as Lydia walks over with a piece of paper, “I wrote everything down for you, assumed that would make it easier to remember. Malia stole the pen from me and wrote a few choice things on it, so try and ignore those.”

Stiles takes the offered sheet, “Does this say ‘List for Stiles the Taco-Fucker’ at the top?”

Lydia purses her lips, “Yeah, she added on the ‘Taco-Fucker’ bit”

“How rude, I like to think that I’m equal opportunity when it comes to all that.”

He hears more than a few snorts and chortles from the group surrounding him, and an annoyed groan that definitely comes from Malia. Whatever, he has no issue with the group knowing exactly how bisexual he is; it’s not like he’s the only one and it can’t be any worse than the time they all accidentally found out about the Scott-Allison-Isaac attempted threesome. “Attempted” because apparently Scott and Isaac ended up making out for a full half-hour and Allison eventually got bored, got dressed, and ended up marathoning season four of Buffy in a different room. The version of events, however, changes depending on who tells it. Stiles trusts Allison’s version.

Speaking of, “You ready?” She’s standing by the door with her hands in the pockets of her jacket .

“Absolutely!” Stiles jumps up and snatches his keys from where they’re sitting on the coffee table, “We’ll be back soon guys, don’t have too much fun without us. Oh and Derek,” Stiles pauses to look directly at the Alpha and wink, “You’re going to miss me, right?”

Derek narrows his eyes, “Yes Stiles, I’m going to miss you for the entire twenty minutes that you’re gone.”

Despite the surly demeanor, it’s actually nice to hear something that borderlines on caring from the big bad wolf. Not that Stiles has long to enjoy it, with Allison tugging him out the door and down to the Jeep. Once he’s properly got his baby going, he turns his head slightly towards the brunette and raises an eyebrow.

“Not that I’m not eager for your company, but we’re about to spend a few hours driving together tomorrow and I have never known you to be the type to not be able to make a decision about food-” Allison starts laughing, which makes him laugh, “So why did you insist on coming with me?”

Allison sighs with a fading smile, “I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing with this whole ‘wager’ thing.”

Stiles sputters, “What do you mean? As far as embarrassing wagers go, it’s pretty harmless.”

“Just be careful,” She twists her mouth, “I mean, I understand _why_ you think you did it in the first place, but... you realize everyone pretty much considers you the de facto second-in-command, right?”

“Erica is Derek’s second. Everyone knows that.”

“According to however their wolf hierarchy works, yeah. But we’re all still human,” She gives him one of her dazzling smiles, “And I’m pretty sure it’s unanimously agreed that we all see you as a sort of Giles.”

“Giles, eh? So...that makes Derek, Buffy?”

Allison tilts her head, like she’s pondering it, “Maybe...although I think he’s probably more like Angel?”

“So would that make Scott, Buffy? Because I’m not sure I’m ready for those two to...”

“No, Scott definitely isn’t Buffy,” She crinkles her nose, “I would probably be Buffy, honestly.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah, actually I see it. The whole badass-female-that-also-wears-dresses-to-prom thing. You’re definitely the first person I’d call if I ever saw a vampire, so there’s that.”

“And you’re absolutely the first person I’d call if I ever found some ancient Druidic scroll.”

A laugh escapes before he can stop it, “Well that’s settled then,” He looks over at her briefly before turning back to the road, “So I’m Giles?”

“Yeah! And it even rhymes,” She smiles again, “For real though, the whole point of this was...go easy on Derek with this, okay?

His mouth hangs open, “Umm...yeah, okay. I wasn’t planning on...I’m not a cruel person, Allison.”

“You can be kind of an asshole, sometimes.”

“ _He is too_! It’s practically how our dynamic works!”

“Unstoppable force versus immovable sassbox?”

“...Something like that.”

“All I’m saying is, you’ve got a lot of power with this, okay? Maybe when you’re about to do or say something, think to yourself, ‘Is this something Jackson would have done’ and if the answer is ‘Yes’, maybe don’t do it.”

Stiles playfully shoves her as he parks, “When did you get so sweet on the Sourwolf?”

Allison smirks and places a hand on his arm before they climb out, “I don’t think I’m the one that’s sweet on him...”

“Whuh?” Stiles's eyes widen, “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“Mmhmm. Are you going to be reading slash fic of Giles and Angel while I’m driving tomorrow?”

“You’re a terrible woman, Allison Anastasia Argent. You will be the _last_ person I call if I ever run into vampires.”

Allison pretends to pout, “That’s probably the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me, Stiles Esteban Stilinski. The least you can do now is go inside this taco stand with me, then help me carry a massive amount of tacos back to our hungry bunch of lycanthropes.”

“Should I warn them first that I’m apparently a ‘Taco-fucker’?”

Instead of answering him, Allison shoves him inside the door of the small, brightly-lit building. While she’s ordering, Stiles mulls over their discussion; he understands why someone like Allison would worry about his behavior, he hasn’t exactly ever shown himself to be a shining example of empathy. But he’s also not a complete dickhead, which he hopes she knows. Actually, he hopes _everyone_ knows that. However, that doesn’t mean that he’s not going to have fun with this.

Although, he hopes that his crush on Derek isn’t as obvious to everyone else as it is to Allison. Lydia knows, obviously. And Erica and Boyd are insightful enough that there’s no way it’s gotten past them. Yet, he still would prefer to stay under the radar, and he especially doesn’t ever want Derek to know. Instead, he’d prefer to just keep it nestled in the back of his mind, like an injury that never really heals.

Stiles shakes his head and shifts his focus to the bright menu board just above his eyeline. Because now isn’t the time for _ennui_. Now is the time for some motherfucking _tacos._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes:  
> I'm not sure if they're ever really SAID where Beacon Hills is located, but I've always imagined it being in Northern California (maybe because of the forests?), making UC Davis the closest college listed
> 
> Also, a Stiles/Allison friendship is so important to me guys. I just want love these two so much and I want them to be best friends.
> 
> Finally, I VAGUELY remember something happening in season 4 that involved a second version of the bestiary, maybe done by Lydia's grandmother? (although this could be one of those times where I've read so much fanfic that I forget what's actually canon and what isn't) I really can't remember and season 4 isn't free on Amazon yet so I'm not about to rewatch it just to make sure. If anyone wants to jostle my memory, I'd be forever grateful!
> 
> (also....[tumblr](relax-itsjustbolognese.tumblr.com) for those interested)


	3. The Struggle

It’s a couple of days before Stiles decides to taunt Derek again, which genuinely surprises him (also surprising to him: how little Giles/Angel fanfic there is out there) (not that he actually looked) (which he totally didn’t). During the drive down to Berkeley, he’s tempted constantly to send a smarmy text along the lines of, _Turns out humans might actually be smarter than werewolves, am I right?_ But that seems cheap, and half of the reason for Stiles’s stupid wager in the first place was to make Derek learn some sort of lesson from all this.

So as much as it pains him to restrain himself at times - he very nearly sent a text that said, _Depeche Mode, pretty awful band, right?_ \- he has to remind himself to try and take this thing seriously. Because he _needs_ Derek to take him seriously, not just for his own pride, but it could also put them in a lot fewer life-and-death situations.

Of course, that doesn’t mean he has to _always_ take it seriously.

He’s finishing up a paper on the role of hallucinations in The Brothers Karamazov when his phone pings at him. At first, he assumes it’s just a text from Scott or his roommate and ignores it, focusing instead on his perfectly constructed conclusion paragraph. Then, fifteen minutes later when he’s going back over the paper to make sure it actually makes sense, his phone pings again and he grabs it without thinking. When he steals a glance away from the computer and notices that it’s a text from his dad, he scrambles to unlock his phone, fearing the worst.

What he gets though, is the exact opposite: _Holy crap, are you watching the game?_ Stiles furrows his brow for a second before realizing that his dad is talking about the Mets game that’s going on right now. The game that his phone had been reminding him of earlier, when he was too absorbed deconstructing Dostoyevsky to pay attention. Which, his dad would probably be proud of, if he knew that Stiles was too busy working on his assignments to remember to watch a Mets game.

However, now that he knew about it, there wasn’t any way he’d be able focus on anything else. Spinning around in his desk chair, he turns his tiny dorm TV on and flips through channels until he finally finds it on one of the local ones. He lets out a surprised laugh when he sees that the Mets are actually winning, and grins evilly when he notices what team they’re playing: the Los Angeles Dodgers. Derek’s team. Oh delicious day.

Right now, the Mets are only up by a run, so Stiles forcefully holds himself back from texting Derek just yet. Well, he’s able to restrain himself until the third inning is underway, but he still keeps it civil, only shooting Derek a short text asking him if he’s watching the game. He only has to wait a few minutes before he gets a reply

_Derek - What game?_

Stiles - Dude. The Mets and the Dodgers are playing right now!

Stiles fires off a quick response and turns his attention back to the game at hand, just in time for Lagares to catch a ball deep in center field and fire it off to Murphy for a slick double play. Absolutely beautiful. He barely contains the the excitement that hisses through his teeth. Immediately afterwards, he paws around for his phone to shoot another text to Derek.

Stiles - Are you watchin the game yet?

 _Derek - To Isaac’s dismay, yes_.

Isaac - for some reason - wasn’t exactly keen on watching sports in general, especially baseball. Which wouldn't necessarily be so bad except that he pouted openly about it, as if it was some affront to the very delicacy of his nature to watch the Lions play the Chargers on a Sunday afternoon rather than another episode of Antiques Roadshow. Stiles, being the completely mature adult he absolutely was, still took tiny bits of happiness in Isaac’s displeasure.

Stiles - Are you forcing him to watch it with you?

_Derek - Pack bonding time_

Stiles snorts so loud he’s pretty sure his next door neighbor hears it.

_Derek - Besides, he really needed a break_

_Derek - We’ve both been pretty much looking at hand-drawn images of skin-walkers all afternoon_

With a knowing sigh - after all, he’s seen his fair share of such pictures during his own time researching - Stiles taps back a quick response.

Stiles - Definitely understood.

His tongue darts out across his lips and presses against his front teeth as he notices the Mets putting up another run.

Stiles - Although it would definitely be better if your team was doing well :P

_Derek - Gloating already? It’s only the fourth inning_

Stiles - Yeah, but

Stiles - I’m already feeling a win coming on

Stiles - Wouldn’t you agree?

_Derek - ..._

For some reason, Stiles finds it hilarious that Derek would send a text consisting only of ellipses.

Stiles - You know I can’t see your eyebrows right now, right?

_Derek - You’re really going to keep this going over text?_

Stiles - Thirty days buddy.

Stiles - Well, like twenty-six now

_Derek - You’re insufferable_

Stiles - Now, that doesn’t sound like something I’d say

Stiles waits a full fifteen minutes, during which the Dodgers score twice but the Mets manage to put up another run of their own, before his phone finally buzzes again.

_Derek - Yes, absolutely, there definitely will be a win today for the Mets_

It doesn’t matter how insincere the words are, just the fact that Stiles has permanent proof (via a screenshot that he uploads to his Dropbox for safekeeping) that Derek would say such a thing. Of course, it doesn’t stop him from trying to press his luck.

Stiles - It’s probably because the Mets are such a great team, right?

_Derek - Absolutely._

_Derek - Despite all evidence to the contrary, and all history that would suggest otherwise_

_Derek - The Mets are a GREAT team_

Stiles cackles as he takes another screenshot and sends both to Scott so they can share in the joy that is Derek saying positive things about the Mets. After that, he leans back to enjoy the rest of the game with a stupid smile plastered on his face, ignoring the occasional notification noises from his phone.

Once the Mets have definitely clinched the game, he checks his phone again to go through his texts. There are a few from from Scott - mostly smiling and laughing emojis, a couple from his dad both celebrating the win and grumbling that he had to miss the last few innings because he was out on a call, and one from Isaac that he skips over in favor of reading the new ones from Derek.

_Derek - This game is ridiculous_

_Derek - You’re going to be gloating all day_

_Derek - Aren’t you._

Stiles bites his lower lip to keep from laughing while earnestly wishing that he’d actually been paying attention to his phone because the opportunities would have been golden. There’s still time, of course, for him to try and get at least one more compliment about the Mets from Derek, but as he’s running different ideas through his mind, he starts getting more texts from Grunty McPerfectstubble himself.

_Derek - Isaac told me that he texted you earlier, so you’re probably panicking._

_Derek - You shouldn’t. Just give me until this evening to explain_

Well, with a set-up like that.......Stiles’s thumb flies over his phone, quickly pulling up Isaac’s message.

_Isaac -  A hiker’s body was found an hour ago near the edge of the Preserve. We’re going to go check out the area, we’ll let you know if we find out anything._

With a muffled curse, Stiles slings his phone across his bed and jumps up to pace the small area of his dorm room between his desk and closet. He seriously contemplates buying a few ounces of Self-Preservation for Derek for his birthday. Sometimes Stiles will let his mind wander about how nice and well-adjusted Derek’s become, but then he has to go and do stupid monster-chasing stuff like this and it makes Stiles want to punch him.

Feeling helpless - just like Derek knew he would, Stiles realizes - he shoots off a quick text to Scott to see what he’s heard, then types out one to Allison asking her to come over if she can. Obviously Derek and Isaac can’t be trusted on their own to craft a proper plan, than Stiles will have to do it for them. With Allison’s help, of course.

He’s tugging at his hair as he continues pacing, ruminating on the impossibility of him actually injuring Derek if he ever decided to follow through with his threats and actually punch the wolf in the face. With his luck, he’d break all of his knuckles in his attempt. Stiles rubbed a hand along his own jaw and hypothesized about sticks big enough that they’d actually be able to do some damage and possibly teach Derek a lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a headcanon that Derek listened to a ton of Depeche Mode growing up (probably Laura's influence) and they're still his secret favorite band


	4. The Battle

It’s been three hours and there still hasn’t been any sort of contact from Derek or Isaac. Stiles is busily tapping a pen against his knee while another pen rests in his mouth. Printed out copies of the bestiary are scattered all over his bed and floor, most of them relevant. He’s wondering to himself whether or not he can convince Allison to brew another pot of coffee for them when Lydia huffs out a sigh.

“I don’t know guys,” The resolution on his laptop isn’t perfect, but he can still see the disappointment on her face as she purses her lips, “I’m not finding anything really helpful.”

It had taken a lot to get Lydia to even agree to their Skype call, it wasn’t like she had a ton of free time on her hands right now, and now Stiles was starting to worry that they’d wasted her time. Allison furrows her brow and starts chewing on her bottom lip, obviously feeling the same way. They’ve been scouring over every entry that even casually mentions shapeshifting, hoping to find even the slightest hint on how to defeat this thing. So far the only accomplishments Stiles and Allison have made are drinking three pots of coffee, making seven kick-ass paper airplanes out of the overly poetic section of the bestiary that discusses goblins, and arguing over the proper pronunciation of “vlkodlak” (it’s Lydia who finally corrects both of them, much to Allison’s chagrin).

Stiles is just about to tell Lydia that she doesn’t have to stay on any longer when she gasps and squeals a little.

“Oh my god, guys! How did I miss this?” Her eyes are wide as she stares slightly offscreen.

Both of them clamber off the bed to be closer to the computer screen, “What is it?” Allison asks.

Lydia shakes her head and raises an eyebrow, “I don’t know how much help this will be, but there’s some footnotes on the entry I have, apparently added later than the rest of it.”

“So what does it say.” Stiles encourages on, waving his hand for effect.

“Don’t get impatient with me just because your boyfriend is in danger, Stilinski.”

“Not my boyfr-”

“Not the time, Stiles,” Allison interjects, “Seriously though Lydia, what does it say?”

“According to this, a few Navajo have had success defeating skinwalkers by discovering their identity and speaking their real name aloud.”

Stiles huffs in disbelief, “For real? That’s all it takes?”

Lydia nods, “Yep. One of those that managed to do it became a hunter shortly after and wrote about it here. If you speak their real name in front of them, they’re forced to transform back their original human form confess all their ‘misdeeds.’”

“And that’s it?” Stiles raises an eyebrow.

“That’s all it says. It has something to do with losing the magic that enabled them to take the skin-walker form in the first place.”

Allison rests her fist against her chin, “But how are we supposed to find that out?”

“Damnit!” Stiles flops back down on his bed, sending sheets of paper everywhere, “We have no idea where that thing came from, no idea how old it is, no idea how long its been in its current form.”

Lydia shrugs a shoulder, “I can keep looking to see if I can find anything else, but it looks like that’s it for now.”

“That’s fine, Lyds, you can head off if you need to,” Allison massages the side of her head and grimaces.

“Sorry guys, I’ll go over this again when I have some free time again, alright?”

They say their goodbyes and the screen goes blank as Lydia signs off. Both of them let out similar groans at their new task. Stiles isn’t even sure how to proceed from this point.

“So,” Allison starts, “I guess we need to retrace this thing’s steps. See what we can find in newspaper articles and whatnot,” She sighs, “I hope you don’t have any dire classwork.”

Stiles sits up and rubs his forehead, “Nothing that I can’t squeeze in while we’re trying to save everyone’s lives. I’ll check some paranormal blogs too, if we’ve encountered it, then other people are bound to have seen it as well.”

Allison is gathering up the sheets of paper from the bestiary when Stiles’s computer beeps with another Skype call, this time from Scott. Cursing angrily, Stiles nearly trips three times on the loose sheets scattered on the floor before he finally makes it over to the computer and accepts the call. To his relief, both Derek and Isaac are sitting behind Scott, and they don’t look like they’ve been badly injured.

“Hey, what’s up guys?” Scott gives them a crooked smile.

“We’ve been going through the bestiary again, with Lydia’s help,” Allison offers, with a lot less bitterness than Stiles would like.

So Stiles fixes that, “Yeah, we’ve just been doing actual research on what we’re up against unlike two werewolves I know who just run off towards the slightest scent of danger,” Isaac goes to interject but Stiles keeps going, “Oh, and we’ve been waiting for news of whether or not said idiot, impulsive werewolves were alive, dead, injured, or cut into tiny pieces.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow, “If we were cut into tiny pieces, wouldn’t that also make us dead?”

“Dude, Deadpool can regenerate from the smallest bit of matter. I’m not entirely sure the extent of the healing process you guys have, but I’m willing to find out if something like this happens again.”

“Stiles,” Derek’s eyes flash red for a moment.

“Nuh uh, Derek. When you two ran off, we barely knew what this thing was, we didn’t have a clue of how powerful it was, and we already knew that it was capable of kicking your ass-”

“Stiles.”

“Seriously, going to investigate like that when we had such little information? After you specifically told me you wouldn’t do that? For real Derek, are you allergic to nuts?”

The stern expression on Derek’s face is replaced with confusion, “What?”

There are similar expressions on Scott and Isaac’s face, although that was to be expected. Stiles smirks a little bit before leaning in to deliver his punchline.

“Because I’m going to punch yours up into your throat if you assholes make us worry like this again.”

Beside him, Allison snickers and turns her head to try and hide it, Scott doesn’t even make an attempt to hide the chuckle that bursts out until he sees the stern expression on Derek’s face. Isaac just rolls his eyes, which, whatever, Isaac doesn’t understand good humor.

Derek stretches his mouth into a thin line and raises his eyebrows, “Are you done?”

Stiles raises a fingers, “Actually!-” His mouth hangs open, “Okay yeah, I actually am done.”

“So you’ll let us explain?”

“Yes... Derek.” Stiles rolls his eyes for emphasis.

“Great,” Derek gives Stiles a pointed look before beginning, “After Isaac and I heard about the hiker on the police scanner, we went as quickly as possible to try and see if we could track it.”

“While the scent was still pretty fresh,” Isaac leans forward and adds.

“Anyway, we were able to follow it to an abandoned house near the Preserve-”

“You know, part of those huge subdivisions that they started but never really finished.”

“And we were searching through the house looking for anything we could use to identify the thing-”

“Oh!” Stiles interjects, “That’s actually really awesome! Cause you see, Allison and I just found out - with Lydia’s help,” He hastily adds when Allison gives him a pointed look, “That some people have managed to defeat skinwalkers by figuring out their real identity. So did you guys find anything?” He scoots forward in his seat.

“Well we might have,” Derek’s voice is strained, “But apparently, someone doesn’t trust that we can actually get things done without him here so he sicced his buddy Scott on us-”

“Hey! I had a right to be worrie-”

“So the whole time we were in the Preserve, someone else,” He glares at Isaac, “Was texting Scott and letting him know exactly where we were every five minutes. So we really only had about fifteen minutes at the abandoned house before Scott got there and forced us to leave so we could ‘check-in’.”

Scott shrugs, “Dude, it was important for them to know that you guys were safe, we can always go back later.”

“No we can’t,” Derek slams his fist on Scott’s desk, “By now, that thing is going to know we were there and it’s going to leave and find a new hideout.”

Stiles gulps, “He’s right.”

Derek face relaxes like he can’t believe Stiles is actually agreeing with him. Groaning out of frustration, Stiles hops up and paces around the room. He’s vaguely aware of the rest of them discussing plans behind him, but he’s too pissed at himself for over-reacting and getting Scott all worried and potentially blowing the one good clue they would have had towards this thing’s identity.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice is soft but stern, drawing him back from his twisting thought process, “Did you hear any of that?”

“Uh...No actually. Not really.”

Scott takes a breath and calmly explains, “The three of us,” He gestures between himself and the other two wolves, “Are going to check back at the house, see if there’s anything there. Most likely the walker-thing has already packed up, but it could have left something behind.”

Stiles ruffles his hair, “That just doesn’t sound safe, dude. Smart, but not safe. Maybe you should call my dad-?”

Derek shakes his head, “I’m not putting anyone unnecessarily in danger if it’s still there. We’ll be as careful as possible.”

“And all of us,” Isaac gives a pointed look at Derek, “Will keep you guys in the loop.”

“Yeah,” Scott adds, “I’m about to text Malia and Kira for back-up so they’ll be ready just in case.”

Allison sighs, “Okay guys, just...seriously be careful, alright?”

“We will,” Scott gives them his crooked grin, which is probably supposed to make the two of them feel better, but just ends up making him look like an inexperienced 16-year old again.

“We’ve got to head out now though, while there’s still a possibility we might find something,” Derek huffs out a breath, then directs his gaze at Stiles, “We can’t wait for it to attack someone else.”

After they’ve all signed off, Allison goes back to the task of picking up the strewn-out sheets of bestiary. With a sigh, Stiles starts helping her, trying to organize it as best as possible before finally just setting it on his desk. He can always sort through it later, there will always be a need for a distraction while he’s supposed to be studying.

He tilts his head towards Allison, who’s started packing up her things, “Think I should apologize for being kind of a....”

Allison chuckles, “Kind of a dick?”

Stiles smirks and runs a hand down his face, “Yeah, that.”

“I don’t know,” She shrugs, “Probably though. It’s kind of understandable, considering how worried you were about him.”

“About them, you mean?”

“Stiles,” Allison raises an eyebrow at him, “There’s not a soul in the Pack who thinks you’d ever worry about Isaac.”

“Hey! I - sometimes - maybe-”

“Stiles! It’s okay. I’m sure Derek would understand if you texted him,” She stands up to leave, “I’m going to try and get some homework done, I’ll text you if I hear anything, okay?”

Stiles mouth gapes dumbly, “Yeah...ditto.”

“Cool, see you tomorrow, alright?”

He stares at his phone long after she leaves, debating whether to text Derek. Because yeah, his joke was hilarious and totally worth it, but also kind of mean. And maybe he feels a little bad after hearing how much effort Derek and Isaac wasted because of Stiles’s impatience. Well, as his mom always fiercely instructed, kindness never killed anybody.

Stiles - Hey, sorry if I was a bit of an asshole earlier

Stiles - Sarcasm is kinda my main defense when I’m anxious

Several minutes later his phone pings at him.

_Derek - I agree, sarcasm is your main defense._

Stiles - Well, you kinda HAVE to agree, don’t you?

_Derek - Even if I didn’t._

In that moment, Stiles is kind of glad that Allison’s already left, because she would definitely be teasing him about the dopey grin on his face. He spends some time typing out his next response and nearly sends it, but at the last minute deletes it and chooses something a little more succinct. And a little less revealing.

 _(Unsent)_ Stiles -  Please be careful, I’m not sure what I’d do if you weren’t around, Sourwolf.

Stiles - Be careful out there, Sourwolf.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is "vlkodlak"? Why the Czech word for "werewolf" of course!
> 
> I think this is the third fic I'm writing with Stiles and Allison as besties. Seriously, I want them to be besties SO BAD, that relationship, for whatever reason, is crazy important to me (and, of course, you are more than welcome to [come talk to me on tumblr](http://relax-itsjustbolognese.tumblr.com) if you feel the same way!


	5. The Compromise

Stiles - You’re still an idiot though.

_Derek - Yes Stiles, I’m an idiot. Anything else?_

Stiles could fill in that blank easily, and he wonders if Derek knows it. Has always wondered if Derek had any clue, especially since other people have obviously picked up on it, despite Stiles refusing to ever openly admit it to anyone. He wishes he could just ignore the tug in his chest that he associates with Derek. Mostly because the whole notion of it is just a recipe for ridiculous pining on Stiles’s part, seeing as the only person in Beacon Hills more unattainable for Stiles than Lydia Martin is probably Derek Hale.

It’s times like these, though, when he and Derek spend the whole night texting, that Stiles starts to entertain those ridiculous notions. Because Derek is a snarky guy, and really fun to talk to. It’s a wonder the things you find out about a person’s personality when it’s not buried under fifteen layers of manpain.  Not to mention, he seems to enjoy Stiles’s company, which can not always be said of people.

_Derek - It’s getting late you know, you should probably get some rest_

Stiles - Nah, I don’t think I’m ready to call it a night just yet

_Derek - ..._

_Derek - No, you don’t need to call it a night just yet_

Stiles secretly thinks that Derek’s getting just as much of a kick out of this as Stiles is. In his head, he can almost see the faux-annoyed eyeroll assisted by the faux-annoyed smirk. It makes him wish he wasn’t so far away and sitting in his dorm room. He sucks in a breath to keep himself from dwelling in that part of his brain for too long.

Stiles - Were you guys able to find anything?

It’s a few minutes before Derek replies again and Stiles can feel his eyelids getting heavy while he waits. Perhaps he was a bit too hasty in protesting sleep moments earlier. In all honesty, he should do the responsible thing and get some sleep - he actually does have a class in four hours. Right as he’s changing into some sweatpants, he hears the ping of his phone going off and nearly trips trying to grab it off the bed.

_Derek - We pretty much grabbed everything from the house that looked like it could help_

_Derek - Scott’s been helping us sort through it since then_

_Derek - There were a lot of photo albums and paperbacks that ended up being irrelevant_

Stiles - Maybe souvenirs from its victims?

_Derek - Probably._

_Derek - Anyway, the point is, we might have actually found something useful._

He weakly pumps his fist in the air right before he falls asleep.

 

***

 

Stiles’s fingers drum impatiently on the wheel of the Jeep as they head down the interstate. Apparently every tractor-trailer in the entire state also picked this particular Thursday afternoon to also be on the I-5, jamming up every lane of traffic and restricting the flow to roughly around 20 MPH. While he’s busy tapping out the rhythm to the new song he’s writing, entitled “Giant Trucks Are Ridiculous And I Hate Them”, Allison is looking through the pictures on her phone that Scott sent her.

A year and a half ago, that sentence would have been gross rather than helpful.

“It’s definitely an old newspaper clipping, maybe turn-of-the-century even. I can’t quite make out the date, it’s in the corner and cut-off.”

Stiles’s continues his assault on the steering wheel, “So what does it say?”

Allison squints her eyes, “Something about a farmer being murdered in a...’ritualistic way’, or at least that’s what I think it says. Every time I try to make the image bigger, it just gets blurry.”

“Okay so,” Stiles reluctantly pauses in his percussion so he can use one hand to gesture as he speaks, “I’m guessing we just have to find out who killed the farmer, then? Does it say in the article?”

“Umm...” Allison shakes her head, “I really can’t tell. I assume it says something important, Scott sounded really excited when he told me about it.”

Stiles groans and rubs his gesturing hand down his face, “If we keep moving at this rate, they’ll already have everything taken care of by the time we reach the ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills’ sign.”

“Would that be a bad thing?”

“Of course!” Stiles gapes, “Why wouldn’t we want to be involved in taking this thing down?”

“Are you sure it’s not just because you successfully identified it?”

“I mean, that’s part of the reason yeah - come _ON_ , what is the issue here? - but you know me, I like to earn my participation ribbon.”

“I get that,” Allison nods then exhales loudly, “Man, I wish there was a faster way there.”

“You and me both,” They scoot another half mile before Stiles perks up, “Hey, mind sending a quick text for me?”

Allison looks over, “Sure. Want me to tell Scott that we’re experiencing traffic woes?”

“Nah,” Stiles smirks, “Text Derek and tell him that I think it’d be a good idea for them to wait until we get there before they plan anything definitively.”

“Oh...is that thing still going on?”

Stiles grins, “Heck yeah! I’ve still got....25 more days to exploit this.”

“And you remember what I told you?”

“Allison,” Stiles gives her a quick glance before focusing back on the road, “The whole point of this is to make Derek stop and think, ‘Hmm...maybe Stiles is right sometimes’ before he does stupid things.”

“Right.”

“Please? I can’t do it, I’m driving! If you want, you can also send him a photo of my totally determined driving face!”

“Alright fine! I’ll do it.”

Stiles sees the flash go off out of the corner of his eye and nearly protests that he wasn’t ready, but Allison’s already cackling as she sends the picture. Whatever, hopefully it’ll get his message across: him and Allison are on their way, so there’s no need to panic and hobble together some haphazard plan that might get someone killed. He honks his horn for the what seems like the hundredth time and sends an angry prayer up to whatever deity might be listening. Surely there has to at least be a Patron Saint of Those Stuck In Ridiculous Traffic Jams.

“Derek said, ‘Fine, just get here as quickly yet safely as possible,’” Allison smirks, “‘And tell Stiles that his face is adorable.’”

Stiles squawks, “He did not say that!”

Allison shrugs, “It was implied.”

“The only thing implied there is that bad decisions are going to be made if we’re not there soon.”

“Calm down young Padawan, we’ll be there soon. It looks like traffic’s going to clear up in a couple miles once we get past the construction.”

“What sort of messed up city does construction on a Friday afternoon?”

“Deep breathes, okay? Just a couple more miles, then it should be smooth sailing all the way to Beacon Hills.”

“Thank God,” Stiles puts his forehead on the steering wheel when they come to a complete stop yet again, “I was just about to say ‘Fuck it’ and just drive down the shoulder.”

Allison smirks, “You know Roscoe is too wide for that.”

He tilts his head towards her, “Somehow, I’m going to have to make some wager with you so you’ll go along with everything I say, too.”

“It’d never work,” She shakes her head, “I’d never fall for it.”

 

***

 

By the time they get to Derek’s loft, Stiles can feel the itch of anxiety under his skin. He hates not knowing every detail of what’s going on with his Pack. The elevator seems to be mocking him, deliberately creaking it’s way as slowly as possible, so much so that he briefly considers just stopping at the next floor and taking the stairs. Luckily, Allison seems to notice the twitch in his limbs and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. He gives her a small smile and tries to slow his breathing down.

Still, he slides the door to Derek’s loft open a little harder than necessary, causing all the eyes in the room - glowing and otherwise - onto the pair of them walking inside. The first thing Stiles notices is Derek and Scott sitting on the couch with printouts scattered all over the coffee table. Derek’s eyes are focused on Stiles, watching him as he hops down the steps and heads towards them.

Instinctively, Scott and Derek slide apart enough for Stiles to plop down between between them. Not enough that Stiles is able to sit comfortably without his knee and most of his thigh pressing against Derek’s, but he tries to ignore it. Mostly because his brain has more important things to focus on, like the newspaper clippings and bestiary information sitting in front of him.

“So, remind me,” He starts, “What do we know so far?”

Derek sighs, “By now there’s no doubt that it’s a skinwalker. From the bestiary, Lydia found out that the only way that’s been proven to kill it is by knowing its real name,” He points to a few of the printouts, “And now, since Scott found this newspaper clipping back in the abandoned house, we have an idea of where to start with that.”

“So how do we find out the identity?” Allison pipes up from her spot curled up in one of Derek’s oversized leather armchairs.

“Yeah, it seems rather daunting,” Isaac offers, from where he’s leaning against the bar in the kitchen, “It’s an unsolved case from, what, a hundred years ago?”

“Eighty-two years,” Scott corrects, without looking up, “And I was Skyping with Lydia last night, trying to figure it out. She’s still looking into it.”

“So is she joining us later?” Stiles asks.

“Nah,” Scott shakes his head, “She’s really swamped right now. Between this and her actual schoolwork, y’know? I told her to call one of us if she found out something.”

Stiles presses his hands against his face and runs the down to his chin, “So what do we do until then?”

“We keep looking,” Derek answers, “Boyd and Kira are on their laptops,” He nods towards the dining room table, “Trying to see if they can find anything. Malia and Erica are upstairs listening to the police scanner.”

“What happens if something comes up on the scanner.”

Derek furrows his brows, “You know what happens.”

Stiles stands up, bumping one of his knees against the table in the process, “No way, guys. Haven’t we moved past this whole idea of ‘Attack first, plan later’? We know this thing is dangerous, why would we just go after it again without being able to beat it?”

Scott shrugs, “We can’t do nothing, Stiles. We can’t let it hurt anyone else.”

“Okay then,” Stiles licks his lips and gives Derek a pointed look, “You shouldn’t go, and you shouldn’t let anyone else go.”

“This is about more than a stupid bet,” Derek growls under his breath and stands up so they’re face to face, “This is about the safety of the pack, of the city, of yo- of everyone in Beacon Hills,” He lowers his voice to a whisper, “I know you’re worried, but I’m not being reckless here. I’m trying to keep everyone safe.”

Stiles scrunches his mouth and looks down, “Fine then, blindfolds.”

“Excuse me?”

“Kinky,” Scott grins and raises an eyebrow.

Stiles continues, “You guys have enhanced senses, right?”

Isaac rolls his eyes, “Yeah, of course.”

“So you should be able to find your way through the Preserve with blindfolds on, right? And you know what the skinwalker smells like, so it shouldn’t be that hard to track...right?”

Scott grins, “And with the blindfolds on, it wouldn’t be able to freeze us!”

“Exactly, my man,” Stiles enthusiastically fist-bumps Scott.

Derek nods, “It’s definitely doable. Assuming we hear anything on the scanner at all before Boyd, Kira, or Lydia is able to find anything.”

  
It’s only a second later that Malia runs to the top of the stairs and lets them know that the police are reporting an unidentified animal on the western edge of the Preserve.


End file.
